The First After
by GJFH
Summary: It's not Christmas Dinner, but it's close. They don't have everyone, but they have each other. Takes place in a beginning. Less of an AU than I imagined.


The first Christmas after Jenny's death had been the hardest. It was that Whit certainly knew it would be, and yet, when November passed into December, and the families nearby began decorating he only wanted to stay inside away from it all. He resisted the urge to keep his blinds shut, and while Emma Douglas, among others, offered to work more hours at the shop, he continued coming in. It was, after all, what she would have wanted. Jana called him every other day, and Jason made a point to call him too when he could.

They arrived in Odyssey about the week before the Holiday, Jana shepherding her two travel weary kids and a load of luggage from the car onto the front lawn. For the last hour they had grumbled impatiently yet without saying much, but when they caught sight of the snow, Monty and Jenny sprung forward, quick to begin pelting each other and making snow angels.

Whit hugged his daughter, warmly on the curb, the lines around his eyes receding a bit.

"It's good to see you." He breathed. "Do you want to come inside when it's warm? I have some tea, and there's a pot of coffee brewing."

Father and daughter sat on the striped yellow couch in the living room, Jana hadn't taken her jacket off, despite the fact Whit had started a fire. She sipped at her tea, splitting her attention between their current conversation and watching six-year old Monty balance precariously on a short stool in front of the tree.

"I'm sorry it's fake." Whit said, suddenly. "It's on the smaller side, and I didn't know -"

"It's fine."

She patted his knee. "We have a real one back home...and you wouldn't believe the amount of time I spent cleaning up needles just from when we lugged it in." That earned a small smile from Whit.

"Remember the first time we got a real one?"

"How could I forget?" She laughed. "Gosh, the amount of effort you put in to making that day perfect. I think mom really appreciated it." She said, and bit her lip when pain flashed through his eyes.

"I think she tolerated it, honestly. That four mile walk in the sludge, on the road less travelled…"

"Three kids, one with a cold, one with mismatched shoes…" Jana continued for him. It had been fifteen years since then, and that, she thought, felt longer ago than it probably was, Whit had been absentmindedly looking towards the front window, remembering how the Whittaker clan trooped in close to midnight. Whit and Jerry carried the tree in through the door, managing to scrape it against the wall and the older man's arm.

Jenny was calm and orderly, while he had been nearly as miserable as the kids.

"I'm really sorry, Jenny," He followed her up the stairs. "I should've listened."

"Why are you still apologizing? I said I forgave you." Fiery red curls were matted, and she had her arms wrapped around herself, fingers pressing into her sides.

"I was such an idiot." Whit spoke. She halted, bit at her lip and looked away for a moment.

"John Avery. You were, but you need to stop being one now, because your family needs you. Alright?" He nodded, meekly.

"What can I do?"

"For starters, you could make some of the chamomile tea I bought, Jana could certainly use it." They could hear her coughing from the couch. Jenny looked sincerely worried in that moment. "Please." And Whit reacted quickly.

They missed church the following morning, struggled with the bereavement but it was a good day, then. The Whittakers spent it recovering by watching old movies and drinking hot cocoa, Jenny baked another pie and it was gone before the sun set.

* * *

The following evening, a hooded figure knocked twice on the oak colored door as he stepped in, careful to close it behind him.

"Dad?" He pulled the hood off and wrung a hand through his dark brown hair, turned black by the freezing rainwater.

"Uncle Jason!"

"Hey, guys!" Without bothering to step out of his sodden coat, Jason grabbed Monty and Jenny, hugging them tightly.

"Ewwww." Jenny said. "You're dirty." She scurried out under his arms and frowned.

"And wet."

"You're warm. And...what is this, flour? Are you making cookies?" Jason sniffed the air, dusting off his nephew with a free hand.

"Sugar cookies!" Said Jenny, grinning toothily.

"What took you so long to get here?" Monty asked.

"The roads were all wet."

"But mom said you'd be here yesterday." There was a hint of an accusation in his tone, and Jason understood.

"Monty, I'm sorry. I was planning on it, but some things happen that you can't see coming." He said gently, hoping it was explanation enough. The young boy just shrugged, murmured that it was fine.

"Jason…" Jana came into the hall, then let out an exaggerated sigh for both her own benefit when she saw him dripping. "You stay right there. I'll get a towel." She wagged a finger, and thunder boomed outside. "Da-d! The judge is here!"

"What? No hug?"

Within the hour, they were all settled at the dining table. Whit at the head, Jana and Monty to his left, Jason and Jenny opposite them. They hadn't forgotten about the two empty chairs, and it would have felt disrespectful to imagine sitting in the one on the far end. For years and years, the former Jenny Whittaker had taken her place there during dinner, not often needing to even raise her voice to be heard. She was great at getting people's attention and didn't even realize it. Sometimes Jenny would just catch his gaze and tilt her hand towards the table, smiling beautifully, as if to remind him what they had, what they were blessed with. During even the crankiest of moods, or the most stressful days, he'd be able to soften.

"Dad?" Jason had been tapping on his arm, his messy hair shoved to one side. Jana mouthing something to him he couldn't quite get. Then, after a moment, Whit realized they were waiting for him to pray.

"Dear Heavenly father," He started, breathed, "we thank you that you have brought us here together. Thank you that you for the love you have for us, that you sent your son as the gift we don't deserve, to save us. Thank you that you...care about us, and the people you've placed in our lives. Would you please bless this night, Lord, and use us to honor you. In Jesus' name, Amen." Amen was echoed, and they began eating, noisily. Jana, giving Jason a mock scowl when he took two rolls at once, then out of habit, glanced towards the empty chair. The brief, insane thought they might lose another of theirs brought a lump to her throat.

"How's Tom doing?" She forced herself to ask.

"Good, good." Whit nodded for a few seconds longer than he meant.

"Did you cook all this yourself?"

"I know how to cook, Jana." He set his fork down.

"I know, but you've been cooking regularly, right?"

"Honey, I promise you, I've been eating." Whit spoke sincerely.

"Have you been sleeping?" Asked Jason, suddenly, noting the dark corners beneath his weary eyes earlier.

"Grandpa, are you okay?" Monty himself had stopped eating.

"I - "

"You're not sleeping?"

"Yes-no. I am, Jason. Not as much as maybe I used to." Whit sighed. His son squinted suspiciously.

"Maybe I should call Jack." Whit buried his face into his hands and straightened, rising slightly.

"Kids. Listen, please." He pleaded. "Jack was down here last week, and I'm grateful for that. But I don't need people putting their own lives on hold to help me. I'm not planning on going anywhere. Not with you settling down, and you still in school."

"But you're…" Whatever Jana had been meaning to say, she choked on something dangerously close to a sob, and Monty threw his arms around her.

Whit reached over to take her hand.

"What do we do now?" Jason said quietly, lost.

"I'm here. So...we keep living."


End file.
